Number One
by nikkifuego
Summary: Sometimes he forgets that she gets off on his work as much as he gets off on hers.


**a/n:** Based on one of the promo pictures for 5x06 and for Alexa, who let me steal her idea and put dirty things around it for her xoxo.

* * *

Somehow, he ends up with his own booth at the convention.

There was already a Derrick Storm table, but one of the employees had approached him and so nicely asked if he wouldn't mind taking an hour of his time to sign some graphic novels while he was here? Beckett had shooed him away with the young man, insisting she could handle canvassing booths by herself but as much as he enjoys meeting fans, he hates missing any part of this now. The pull of the case and the pull of Kate Beckett were strong by themselves, but with the buzz of anticipation and the thrill of building theory woven together as they are now, the subtle change in the way the two of _them_ are woven together, it heightens everything.

He finds himself scanning the crowd between fans, keeping tabs on who she's talking to so he can ask for all the details later but loses sight of her as the line starts to thin out. He cranes his neck, searching for even a glimpse of her soft curls making their way through the crowd but can barely make out individual bodies among the costumes and masses of people, resigning himself to reaching for yet another book as he turns up his charming smile.

"I love your work, Mr. Castle."

He looks up at the breathy voice and finally lays eyes on her, notes her grin as she leans an elbow on the edge of his table, obviously pleased with herself for taking him by surprise.

"Well," he leers, giving her an exaggerated once-over, watches the pink in her cheeks rise a little without her permission. "If you aren't the prettiest fan I've seen all day." He lowers his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, darting his eyes from side to side. "Don't tell my girlfriend."

"Oh yeah?" She cocks an eyebrow at him. "She dangerous?"

"Carries a gun. She could probably take you out."

"Hmm," her eyes flick down to his mouth as she unconsciously leans farther down, and it takes all his self-control to resist tugging on the scarf dangling between them.

"Excuse me?"

They both jump, startled by the voice behind her, and she smoothes a hand down her front as she turns around to reveal an annoyed older gentleman in an "I heart Richard Castle" t-shirt clutching a copy of _Frozen Heat_.

"There are other people waiting here, you know," he says, shooting at glare at Beckett, and she smothers a laugh as she backs away from the table, gesturing an apology and settling against the wall.

Castle shakes the gentleman's hand and signs the novel, thanks him for the kind words about Nikki while struggling to keep a straight face. His phone lights up on the table with a text from Kate Beckett as soon as the man turns to leave and he flicks it open, turns towards her to laugh but she's already making her way back into the crowd.

_Bet your girlfriend could take him too._

* * *

He's propped up in her bed checking email when she walks out of the bathroom wearing that same stupid t-shirt he had been laughing at nine hours ago. This time, though, his mouth drops open at the sight of it as he watches her predatorily stalk towards the bed, sleeves reaching her elbows, hair wild around that look on her face–

"That's the hottest thing I've ever seen," he blurts out, finally closing his mouth and managing to swallow. She rolls her eyes a little, balances herself against the edge of the bed with the fingertips of one hand.

"You've said the same variation of that almost a hundred times today."

"I can't help that I get overwhelmed when your hot mind matches your hot body." He reaches out a hand to finger the hem of the t-shirt, watches her shift as the backs of his fingers brush her thighs. "How did you get this, anyway? Did you buy it off that guy's back?"

She laughs, leans in to grab the ipad on his lap, hair falling to frame her face as the pink tip of her tongue pokes out from between her teeth. "Please, Castle, he _gave_ it to me between profuse apologies after I may or may not have told him I was Nikki Heat."

She drops his tablet on the bedside table before climbing up over his legs, fingertips skirting under the edge of the undershirt he's wearing to play with the elastic of his boxers. He tenses when she drags her nails against his abdomen, body responding to her as she leans in to press her mouth to his in a slow kiss, tongue flirting with the seam of his lips.

She pulls back on a sigh, looks him in the eye as her tongue flicks against her lips.

"Do you know how hot it makes me, seeing all those girls," she pauses for a moment, smirking, "_and_ men, fawn over you, want you, all the while knowing that I'm the one that gets to take you home tonight?"

Her words jolt through him like an electric current, a shock to the system because sometimes he forgets that she gets off on his work as much as he gets off on hers but every train of thought dies when she reaches a hand down past the elastic of his boxers and takes him in hand, gives him a hard tug. His hands shoot out to grab her, broad palms spanning her waist and pinkies meeting the bare skin of her thighs as she leans in for another kiss, open-mouthed and toe-curling, stroking him inside his boxers as she hums around his tongue. Her hips start to move seemingly without her permission, aimlessly seeking friction, and he stalls them on instinct.

"Kate," he breaks away from her mouth with a soft pop, heavy breaths mingling with hers in the small space between them. She's looking at him with hooded eyes, nimble fingers still working between them and he knows she needs some kind of release but he can't make her stop, doesn't want her to stop, instead choosing to snake a hand under the hem of her shirt, startling when it comes in contact with bare skin instead of the soft cotton he expected to find.

"You're not…" he trails off and she laughs breathily, almost knocks her head against his when the pad of his thumb rubs roughly against her. Their mouths come together again sloppily and she bites his bottom lip, accidentally or on purpose he doesn't know but he slides a finger up into her in retaliation, feels her breath hitch and her mouth detach from his as she rises up on her knees, canting her hips into his palm. Her hand has all but stilled in his underwear and he grunts, thrusting up into her fist as he adds a second finger inside her and she falls forward a little, catching herself with a palm against his chest.

She twists her fingers around the tip of him as her nails dig into his chest through the cotton undershirt and his hips jerk up in response, fingers digging roughly into the skin of her hip.

"Castle," she pants out, entire body working in overtime. "Do you want me to finish you…" she cuts off on a whimper as her hips slam hard against his palm, "with my mouth?"

He stutters on a response, and she must take his moment of silence as a yes because suddenly limbs shift and she's shimmying down his body and closing her mouth over him through the fabric of his boxers. He slams his head back at the rough friction combined with the soft heat of her mouth, croaking out her name in a plea or question; he's not even sure which. One hand comes up to try to yank his boxers down and he lifts his hips to help just as he starts to feel the knuckles of her other hand moving rhythmically against his leg.

He brings his head up to look down and takes in the sight of Kate Beckett thrown over his body, the tips of her long hair tickling his thighs as it hides her face from view, one hand struggling with his boxers while the other works between her legs. The fact that she's this worked up, that he's gotten her so close with just his fingers that she has to finish herself with her own almost does it for him.

"Stop," he pulls her up and against his chest, grabbing her hand out from between her legs as she almost whines, rolling her hips against him to make up for the loss of movement and a choked gasp bubbles up out of his throat. "I need to be inside you."

She settles herself down over him then, makes a move to pull the t-shirt off but he stills her once more and gets a glare in return as one of her arms struggles to free itself from the long sleeve it's gotten tangled up in.

"No," he commands firmly, pulling her arm back through the hole, "Leave it _on_."

He flips them in the wake of her surprise, divesting himself of his remaining clothing and bunching the black fabric of the t-shirt up around her waist before slamming into her. Her legs wrap around the backs of his thighs, body arching off the bed as she makes a keening sound and throws her arms around his neck, meeting him thrust for thrust as they rock higher and higher.

Neither of them last long, her orgasm hitting hard and fast as she squeezes the cradle of his hips with her thighs, chanting his name like a prayer and he loses himself with a growl, collapsing on her as she threads her fingers through his hair.

Their heavy breathing is the only sound filling the room as they lie there in silence until he brings his head up to press a kiss to her sweaty temple, smoothing her hair back with one hand.

"Well, you're certainly my most vocal fan," he grins appreciatively down at her and her head tilts to the side, responding smile pressing into the mattress as she shifts under him.

He wonders if she'll ever mention the signed Richard Castle novel she has tucked away behind the rest of her newer collection, charred from the survival of an explosion but with her name and his signature printed clearly on the title page.

He wonders, fingers curling around the edges of the rucked up t-shirt around her waist, but until then he'll take her in whatever ways she has to give.


End file.
